


Christmas Eve at the Castle of Good Fortune

by Greenlady



Series: Echo Valley [7]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-27
Updated: 2010-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Greenlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex, Clark and Connor celebrate Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve at the Castle of Good Fortune

Connor knew he was a Lucky Boy. He knew this because he’d been told so many times, mostly by his Mama. His Mama was always saying things like, ‘We’re very fortunate...’ (Mama called it being ‘fortunate’, not ‘lucky’. Daddy used words like ‘lucky’.) ‘We’re very fortunate, Connor. We have a home, good food to eat. We have Joy, and Mercy and Hope and Cassandra. We have your Grandmother and Grandfather Kent. Especially, we have Each Other.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Connor would say, dutifully.

On more than one occasion, Connor would hear his Mama and Daddy arguing after such lectures. For example, the other night:

‘It’s not that I disagree with what you’re saying, Lex. It’s just... if you keep telling him over and over he should be grateful and thankful, he’ll grow up hating the idea, and decide to be ungrateful.’

‘I won’t have My Son grow up to believe that everyone in the world is as fortunate as we are. That he was Born Special, and that the World Owes Him Everything.’ When Mama and Daddy had these arguments about Connor, Mama tended to talk in Capital Letters. Connor could hear those Capital Letters. He could see colours, too. Dark, murky colours. He knew this meant Mama worried about him.

All at once Connor couldn’t stand it. He ran into the room, revealing the fact he’d been listening in on his parents’ private conversation, and threw his arms around Mama. ‘I won’t be ungrateful, Mama. I remember. I remember.’

‘Remember what, Baby?’ Mama forgot to scold him about listening in, and cuddled him close.

‘Everything. I remember everything. Don’t you know? I remember being born. And you were angry at Daddy, but it wasn’t really him. And we had to run away, really fast, on Christmas Day. And it was a long time before we could come home to be with Daddy. I remember.’

‘All that? You remember all that?’ asked Daddy.

‘Yes. I remember. I’ll never be ungrateful.’

‘That’s good,’ said Mama. ‘But now try to remember not to listen to private conversations.’

Oops! But that was hard. Connor had very good hearing. Almost as good as Daddy. For example, the other day, down by the ferry docks:

‘Poor little boy!’ the lady said. She was talking to some friends of hers.

‘You mean that little boy?’ asked one of the men. ‘Isn’t he Lex Luthor’s son? He’s rich as Croesus.’

‘Lex Luthor, yes. And that’s Luthor with him now, don’t you know?’

‘You mean... that babe is Lex Luthor? Luthor wears drag?’

‘No! No, no, no. Luthor is one of those mutants,’ the woman replied. ‘He’s changed himself into a woman for some reason. I thought everyone knew. But that’s why he’s a poor little boy. Connor, I mean. He must be confused, not knowing what his mother is, even.’

Connor couldn’t stand it. He broke away from his Mama’s grasp, and ran up to the people who were talking about them. ‘I’m not confused,’ he declared. ‘I know what my mother is. And we’re not poor, either. And most of all – I’m not little. I’m growing fast, and soon I’ll be taller than you are, right up to the ceiling!’

It disgusted him that people would make fun of Mama, who was so brave and strong, who had chosen to be a woman again so that Connor could have a brother or sister. Connor was so mad, he didn’t care that the people laughed, though that stopped as soon as Mama stormed up to gather him into her strong arms. She gave the adults one look out of her icy grey eyes, and that shut them up. But later, she’d given Connor another lecture about listening. She wasn’t angry, she said, but Connor needed to understand...

Sometimes Connor wished Mama would be angry. Almost. Sometimes he almost wished she’d just spank him, like Billy’s mother did to Billy when he was bad, which happened a lot, and then it would all be over. Instead, Mama talked to him, and talked and talked and talked, and sometimes it was hard to keep his mind on what she was saying.

But Mama was right. Connor knew he shouldn’t listen in. Just like he knew he shouldn’t go into Mama’s bedroom when she was with Daddy, and the door was shut. He knew that meant they were making love, though he wasn’t sure what making love meant, exactly. He did know Mama was good at it, because a few weeks ago, he’d overheard Daddy telling Mama that she made love like she made money -- and since Mama was very rich, that was a good thing, right?

Mama said something to Daddy about farmers and ploughing and stallions, and she used a word both Mama and Daddy told him he should never use. Connor thought about it, and decided it wasn’t the word that was bad, it must be how you used the word, because Daddy wasn’t angry at Mama. He laughed and laughed and then they went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Now it was Christmas Eve, like all those years ago when he and Mama had been homeless. They had a big party at the Castle, with a huge Christmas tree and lights all over the grounds. A string quartet came and played music. Mama told him they were playing Christmas Concertos by famous composers like Corelli and Torelli and Locatelli, and other people who lived centuries ago in Italy, so Mama approved. Then they all went to the Christmas Eve service at the tiny nearby Anglican church. They walked there, and walked home, after midnight. It was the first time Connor had ever been allowed to stay up so late, unless there had been some terrible emergency, like the time the rogue mutants attacked the Castle and Daddy had been sick from the Green Kryptonite, and... But Connor preferred to forget all that, and think about Christmas Eve, instead.

Joy walked with them, though she hadn’t been allowed in church, and Connor thought that was unfair. The moon was almost full, and when the rain stopped, they could see it right overhead, almost sailing by. Out in the ocean, Connor could hear whales singing about ancient times and how once they had walked upon land, before choosing to go back to the water. They rose and dived deep and rose again, singing, always singing.

Connor was almost asleep when they got home. Mama and Daddy thought he was asleep, so he pretended. It was nice when they tucked him into bed, and kissed him goodnight, and he knew that soon Santa would be coming down the chimney, with his presents.

Billy had told him Santa wasn’t real. Mama and Daddy had told him Santa was quite real. Connor preferred to believe Mama and Daddy, but wanted some proof to use against Billy’s lies. And so he nestled down into his bed, and pinched himself to keep awake, until Santa should come.

It was very late, much later than Connor had ever been awake. In fact, he thought he might have dozed off, just for a moment, but now he was awake again, wide awake, because he heard sounds from downstairs. Music. It sounded like some of that music from Italy, from the party earlier. And he heard jingling, like sleigh bells, though why Santa would use a sleigh on a night like this...

Connor slipped out of bed. He tiptoed down the hall, and stopped just outside Mama and Daddy’s bedroom door. He heard a soft sigh – Daddy murmuring that he loved Mama, and that was good. Mama and Daddy were making love again, and soon there would be so much love in the world that all the hate would run away and hide out of fear.

Connor tiptoed down the stairs, down another hall. He was outside the Great Hall, and that’s where all the music was coming from. He pushed open the doors. The Christmas Tree was all lit up, bursting with light and glory. The musicians were playing again, but now they were dressed in really ancient fashions, like those pictures Mama had shown him of Corelli and those other old Italians. People were dancing, dressed in long gowns and colourful coats made of satin and lace.

A lady, a very elegant lady, came up and took his hand. ‘Connor,’ she said. ‘You are Connor. Welcome to our gathering.’ Her voice was strange and deep, like singing, like the voices of the whales. Her eyes were dark, and when Connor gazed into them, it was like looking up into the night sky.

She led him into the room, until he was surrounded by all the strange visitors. ‘Connor has come to be among us,’ she announced. ‘Welcome him.’ The room full of people all bowed to him, or curtsied. ‘You are one of us, now,’ she said.

Then a man walked into the room, from the gardens outside. He was tall, and dressed in regal robes. He carried a golden box in his hands, and this he put down on the floor in front of the tree. ‘This is for Connor,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Father Christmas,’ said the Lady.

‘You are Santa Claus?’ asked Connor.

‘I am.’

‘Billy told me you weren’t real, but I didn’t believe him.’

‘It is always best to believe in love and giving,’ said Saint Nicholas. ‘I must be on my way, for I have many more gifts to deliver tonight.’ And he strode off, into the darkness, but he glowed, like a great candle in the night.

‘I wonder what is in the box?’ said Connor.

‘You must not open it until morning,’ said the Lady.

Connor sat down on the floor in front of the tree. He gazed at the box for a while, and it dazzled his eyes, so that they grew tired, and closed of their own accord, and in the morning, Mama and Daddy found him sleeping under the Christmas tree, holding his present from Santa.

***THE END***


End file.
